Exodus

We finished dismantling the rubble of corpses only towards morning. There were many dead from our village. But in the whole world's size, thirty people's death is not something rare or out of the ordinary. But in the size of a small village in the kingdom's wilderness, everything looks completely different. Most of the dead were residents of the village. After counting the dead, it became clear that the village simply could not exist further. Now you can only disperse to other villages or go on a journey.

"Father, how are you?" I asked my father. He looked tired. His face was covered in dirt. Hands and clothes were covered with the blood of the monsters who attacked us. Everything is the same as me, but not as strong as my father. I barely fought the other pig-faced other than the wizard.

"It's okay, Ali," he replied and exhaled heavily. Fatigue took its toll. To be honest, I didn't feel so tired. Magical energy is really an amazing thing that changes the man beyond recognition ... Almost beyond recognition. I'm sure it will happen to me the same way it did to many other wizards.

The merchants also lost their people, and now they were collecting corpses to bury them and give them the last honor. They weren't angry or anything. No. The merchants looked tired and wanted to sleep. Yes, and I felt exhausted and would gladly go to rest for a few hours. Having revived myself with cold water, I went to the magician of the merchants. Now he was treating some of the wounded. Izaval conjured and showed his abilities in this direction. Let's just say that most of his actions were incomprehensible to me, and not very well known. As much as I am sorry, but I still do not possess much knowledge of magic.

"Do you need help?" I asked him after he finished treating one of the wounded. It was a warrior with a completely unremarkable face. The only thing that attracted attention to him was a small scar that crossed his lower lip. And even so ... I would forget that face very, very quickly.

"Yes," said the wizard. "Take care of people with minor wounds."

"Got it," I nodded to him and headed towards another warrior that was sitting with a bloody sling on his arm. In his other hand was a mug of water.

"Need some healing?" - I asked him with a smile.

"Of course, you are not a pretty lady, so that I will stop thinking about healing," he snorted. I just chuckled at that. The man held out his hand to me, and I tore off the bandage without much pity. The blood started flowing again, but not as much as it had before. He grimaced and only groaned. Strong will.

After that, I started treating him. This magic direction was not my strength, as I did not have enough time and training opportunities. In general, I had to work very carefully to not screw up anywhere and not get additional problems with the wounded soldier and his friends.

"Excellent," I said when the treatment was over. The warrior examined his hand carefully and then clenched it into a fist several times.

"Thank you," he said to me after he had done all the checks on his hand.

"You are welcome," - I answered him with a smile. "If anything, please do not hesitate to tell me."

For the next few hours, all I did was deal with the wounded. My mana is not infinite, so I had to interrupt after a while. When all the soldiers and merchants were on their feet, a meeting was organized. In this gathering, all the surviving residents of the village took part.

Compared with the number of people who lived in the village, now there were few villagers. Hardly half survived the attack itself. The other part never received help. I will not say that it was pleasant, but it did not touch my soul. The conversations were very hot and active. People were arguing about whether to leave here or not.

"And I'm saying it makes no sense to stay here any longer," my father said. "We are already in big troubles. Our houses are burned, beloved killed."

"Oh, shut up already," said another villager. He looked tired as well as dirty. "It's understandable that we can't stay here any longer. Even a stupid donkey will understand this. We need to decide where we go."

"Who did you call a stupid donkey?" one woman soared. She shook her stick as if she was ready to whack anyone who would contradict her. - I grew up here. I will die here!"

"As you wish," said the second person. "I am leaving this village. Nothing keeps me here anymore."

"And get out of here," the old hag answered again. This woman was really old. If I'm not mistaken, she is about seventy years old. Rumor has it that she once lived in Dalaran, but then left there for some unknown reason. I was not interested in the same way as the previous owner of this body.

"Alistair and I are also leaving," my father said. I nodded my head, confirming his words. " Nobody will persuade you to go. If you want to stay here, then stay. I do not care. This village is dead now."

The father got up. I followed him without a word. You can talk a lot and for a long time, but no one knows whether this will lead to some kind of decision or not. This should not worry me too much, since, during my stay in this village, I managed to become attached to only one person: to my new father, who did not even suspect that his son was no longer his son.

"What are we going to do, Ali? " asked my father. "Where can we go?"

"I don't know," I told him. "I want to go to the Kirin Tor to continue my magic training there."

"Good decision," said my father. "I fully approve of it. But what should I do? I'm not going to stay here. Although ..." - he thought for a few seconds.

"Although what?" I asked him. "Do you have any ideas? Don't be secretive."

"Yes," he said. "I'll take a job somewhere in Dalaran. I have strength, as well as experience. I do not think they will give up skillful hands there."

"Maybe you should go with me?" I asked him.

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "I will only interfere with you on your path of the magician. I am not allowed to do this. You must become a great wizard."

"I understand, father," I answered him with warmth in my heart. It has been a long time since I felt such warmth. "Then we will go to Dalaran together. I will help you settle in there a little, and then I will go to the Kirin Tor."

"Okay," my father nodded, after some time of reflection.

There weren't many things that we would like to take with us, but before we start doing something, we need to talk to the merchants and agree to take us to their caravan. I could become a magician's assistant if one is needed. It seems to me that this will really be needed.

I decided to turn to Argar, who survived this attack of the Pig-Faces and was not even particularly hurt. He sat in his tent and engaged in some kind of account, all the time writing down some information in his books. Since some merchants died, their goods remained ownerless. Indeed some rules will regulate this issue.

"Can I talk to you?" I asked Argar, already going inside. He looked at me, blinked, and then nodded his head.

"How are you?" asked him.

"It's very complicated," he replied, rubbing his face. "I have to deal with the calculation of losses so that I can close them when trading. Besides, I need to continue to do business. If not, then who will?"

"I understand," I answered him, nodding my head. "Tell me, I have one request. If the answer is negative, then I will not be offended."

"Give your request," said Argrar. "Just don't drag it out for too long. I have some more things to do."

"My father and I would like to join your caravan," I said immediately, without any concealment. "We need to get to Dalaran."

"Hmm," said Argar. "I cannot decide this question," he replied and then added. "You need to talk to the head of the caravan about this question. It is he who has the right to decide this issue. Sorry."

"That's ok," I waved my hand. "Then, where can I find him?"

"His name is Nihilim. A tall man, no beard. He likes to wear a black hat on his head. You can easily spot him."

"Got it," I nodded, already leaving the tent. "Thank you."

"Nevermind," an exhausted voice said in my back. "Good luck with the conversation."

Finding this man was not difficult. He stood in the most conspicuous place and controlled everything that happened around. Visually, he was familiar to me before. But neither his name nor the fact that he was the head of the trade caravan, I did not know. I was not interested in this before.

"Excuse me, are you Nihilim?" I asked the merchant. He distracted himself from his business and checked me with an attentive gaze.

He looked pretty impressive: great physique, a sword shining in the sun, and a piece of paper in his hand. He had a feather in his other hand. On his clothes, one could find the remains of a night battle, in the form of rare drops of blood.

"Yes, it's me," he said, throwing his attention at me. "I can't help, as I still have a lot of work."

"No, no," I said quickly, waving my hands. "I don't need help with money or helping me rebuild my home. I wanted to ask if you could hire my father and me to work in your caravan? I am a beginner magician ... "

"Magician?" He asked, and then examined me closely. "Didn't you help to heal the soldiers?"

"Yes, it was me," I confirmed to him. "I will not demand much."

"Okay," he said. "I will think and consult with our caravan magician. I'll give you an answer in a few hours."

"Thanks," I nodded to him.

I wasn't going to just wait. One way or another, I'm going to leave the village and go to the big world. But before that, you need to prepare a little. I collected a hiking bag, which contained a small pot, spices, some dried foods. In the first days, I will not die of hunger, and then I can hunt or pick wild berries. I put the potion bottles at the very bottom of my bag, as well as the books. I'm not going to think about it too much yet. I will continue to train my reserve and the source so that the quantity will not be a problem in the future.

When several hours had passed, I returned to Nihilim. He was sitting in a small chair and ate something quickly. There were two other people with him, among whom I recognized Izaval. The second man was dressed in solid armor that could protect against surprises in non-combat times.

"Bon appetit," I wished them. Sitting people nodded back to me. I did not sit down at the table with them, but only asked the chief merchant: "So you made your decision?"

"Yes," Nikhilim nodded, sipping from his mug. "After consulting with the magician and the guard's head, we decided that one more magician would be a great addition to our caravan. But you will not get equal pay conditions."

"It's not a problem," I nodded to him.

"Okay then," answered the caravan head. "You will receive twenty-four bronze coins a day."

"Sounds good to me," I nodded to him. That's pretty good money, I think. "And my father?"

"Depends on what he can do?" said the merchant.

"He can serve and perform some military duties," answered him. "In addition, he is good with a bow and some other tools.

"Ten bronze coins."

"Agreed on that."

You know, I got the feeling that Argar made a huge discount for me. Well, knowledge of magic cannot be so cheap. When I get to Kirin Tor, it will be necessary to study this issue in more detail. If he really gave me a discount, then I have to somehow thank him. Although ... maybe this discount was because I sold him the barrels of jam. I wonder how much he will bailout for them when he trades in Dalaran or elsewhere.

If I use the simplest mathematics and translate everything into silver, I will receive more than eight thousand bronze coins in a year. This will be approximately eighty silver coins. It's not gold yet, but a pretty nice amount of money. If I get to the Kirin Tor, it may happen that this money will not be enough.

My father was thrilled when he found out that he would get a job. He immediately went to Nihilim in order to discuss in more detail what he would do and how. I decided to find a magician and talk to him about something unknown to me.

"Izaval, are you from the Kirin Tor?" I asked him. He sat on a small stump and drew something in his book.

"You could say that," Izaval said. "After graduating from the Academy in Dalaran, I joined the Kirin Tor, although for this I needed to show that I was worthy of it."

"Interesting," I told him. "And what, are you working on some kind of research?"

"Yes and no," he replied, exhaling. "The problem is that research requires money, and mages of my level don't have much. That is why I work as a mercenary in this caravan. The work is not dusty, I get money and some experience."

"And on what topics did you work?" I asked him casually.

"Well, different," Izaval said, not revealing anything. Well, okay, if he is afraid that I might steal his ideas, then so be it. I will not force him to tell me everything. Better to have a friend than a foe. "Nothing interesting."

"I understand," I said to him, bowing my head slightly.

There were no more conversations. We just sat in silence. I did not spend this time on thoughtless silence, but meditated, gradually training my reserve. The source also succumbed to light training, but it was quite tricky. Sometimes I felt magical energy spinning around me, turning into useless constructs.

For another whole day, the gathering of the caravan on the way continued. My father and I also prepared thoroughly. We stocked up on food, some things necessary for the hike and survival. Weapons like we didn't have. Only knives, sticks, and a bow and arrow. Before leaving the village, the caravan was checked several times by Nihilim.

"Let's move!" He roared, riding his horse. He whinnied and reared, but then calmed down.

The caravan moved forward slowly. A devastated village was left behind us. Rare residents were left behind. As I learned, none of them dared to leave the village. It was very strange and somewhat annoying. You can understand people. Relocating to a new area is stressful and difficult. Also, no one guarantees that the resettlement itself will be successful, no one guarantees that the resettlement process itself can be survived. So ... I wonder how they would survive here if most of the people died. Perhaps some will leave the village soon, realizing that it will be impossible to get anything here.

Izaval and I walked along, those were the rules. The caravans had a single set of rules, which was adopted in ancient times. He regulated the place of each person. In addition, there were the principles for the strategy of protecting the caravan, as well as the standards for its organization. Izaval told me some of these rules.

Mages always move in groups, since only in this case can you be sure that they will support soldiers or each other during an attack by bandits or some monsters. The number of magicians in one caravan is not limited. Of course, the head of the caravan can change the organization of the caravan. At some point, it can become a saving straw. When there is an attack, the attackers always try to destroy the mages first. They are the most dangerous fighters. Mages are prohibited from training in duels if there are not at least four bottles of Mana Recovery Potion for one. Izaval did not have so many bottles of this potion, so there was no training test for me. He saw some of my skills already, and it was enough for him.

I could exchange knowledge with him, but I still did not have sufficient knowledge of magic. Izaval was interested in optics. I had a little knowledge in this section to explain to him a little what light is and what nature it has. I tried to do this, but for him, as a person who can control magic, this information was unnecessary. But I already thought a little about whether I can use the knowledge gained at school here. Knowledge from physics or chemistry. I need to think about it and maybe conduct some experiments.

***

Silverpine Forest was the name of the place we are walking through. Quite a beautiful forest with breaks for broad valleys, where a small village could fit. We walked along a large road that led directly to Dalaran. On the way, we saw large peasant estates with fields on which something was growing. But in the future, all this will be dust or under the influence of damage.

Dangerous animals are very rare here. No one knew the reason for this. Even an experienced knight will be able to cope with the local beast, not like a magician. But this does not mean that this place is completely safe and cannot cause any harm. On the way, we got into several magical anomalies, in which we had to fight. It was not very pleasant.

"And there are many such anomalies here?" I asked Izaval when I finished treating another wounded warrior. He was bitten by some mutated wolf with three eyes. There were many of these wolves, a whole flock ...

"That's enough," the mage replied. "If you are not careful, you can get big problems."

During the time that we were on the way, I managed to make some friendships with Izaval. He was a simple guy who was born in Dalaran into a family of wizards. His parents were wizards, and therefore he also became a magician. He was the second generation of this family to live in Dalaran and be a member of the Kirin Tor. It was interesting for me to learn about some small details of life in such a city. These details can make my life easier when I am there myself.

Dalaran is an ancient city that has seen many and experienced a lot. It survived the experiments of mad wizards and more.

"Stop!" shouted somebody from the front. It took the caravan a few seconds to stop completely. Loud footsteps rang out. The bushes crackled, and a gigantic creature appeared in front of us, taller than a man on a horse. This creature somewhat resembled a bull. The bull's horns glowed with a dark purple light streaked with red. From this bull, power and danger exuded.

"Hmm," Izaval frowned. "Problematic."

"What is it?" I asked him curiously.

"This is the Fire-Bull," the caravan magician drawled. "I read about them in the library that they are quite rare. Each time a meeting with them ended in a fight."

"What are his weaknesses?" Nikhil asked Izavala when approached.

If you put the fire down before his horns flares up, the Fire-Bull will simply run away," answered the magician. "But it will be rather tricky."

"Prepare defenses," Nihilim said. The wagons with the goods began to form a semicircle directed towards the bull. If he attacks, the soldiers and merchants will hide behind these carts and will be able to survive. "And you magicians, work."

"Yes, yes," Izaval said. " Alistair, I will take his horns and heart. What do you think about that? "

"Okay," I nodded to him. I don't know what can be made from his body parts. "Take it. Just tell me, what are you going to use them for?"

"The bones of magical creatures make excellent blanks for artifacts," he said. And at this time, I just reminded myself that I had read about this in the book of my great-great-grandfather. That means creating artifacts ... It's an interesting thing, but I still don't know how to make them, and I have never tried to make one.

Fire Bull moved his head from side to side and then began to beat his hoof on the ground, striking rare sparks. His horns began to slowly heat up. The air around them began to move, and if it had more time, then mirages could appear there.

Izaval waved his hand. From behind his back, a wave of water appeared that washed over the Fire Bull out of nowhere. He hissed, steam rising in clubs from his body. The bull shook and tried to dust himself off. The magician once again waved his hand in the next second, and the water around the bull instantly turned into ice. Cold air appeared from out of nowhere.

The bull was frozen into a large block of ice. Cracks slowly began to go over the ice, from which water slowly began to flow. Izaval frowned, then doused the bull with water again and froze it.

"Problem," he said. "If he can break free, he will flare up with rage and can cause quite a lot of damage around him."

"What are we going to do?" I asked him, and then proposed. "Hmm, what if you burry it in the ground?"

No, it will only give him more room to accelerate heat production," Izaval replied.

I frowned and began to mentally go over the options in my head. As such, I have not yet appeared. It did not appear until I remembered what kind of process it was - combustion. In order for something to burn, air is needed. There will be no fire without it.

"Can you take all the air around the bull?" asked. "So that there was no access to it."

"No," Izaval replied, and reflexively rubbed his forehead. "It's impossible with my powers, but I can try to do something like that in general."

Izaval closed his eyes and began to slowly move his arms. After a few minutes, the first drops of sweat appeared on his face. The Fire-Bull had almost melted the lump and was trying to break out of the ice. It is a pity that I know so little about magic, and I can not help anything serious. If I had faced him alone, I might have tried to run or hide.

The air hummed, and we all felt it "tense up." It is difficult to explain in simple terms. It's like feeling the tension of rubber without touching it, just in appearance. It was very difficult. Izaval was tense.

"M-O-O!" the bull howled. He fell to the ground, he began to twist his head and open his mouth, but no sound came out of there anymore. In an instant, the fire started to fade, turning into simple lines that glowed with a faint red light. Fire-Bull tried to take another step, but then Izaval had already delivered the finishing blow. The water blade cut off his front legs like a scythe of grass. He hit the ground with his muzzle, knocking out small sparks. His eyes snapped and were bleeding slowly.

"Hu-u," the magician gasped and sat down on the ground. "It was very difficult."

"Yes?" I asked him. "I see. What did you do?"

"I had to directly control and guide the air," he said, pulling out a small tissue and wiping his face with it. "I never thought that such childhood skills would be useful for me in reality."

"Children's skill?" I asked him with a surprise. "And that is why children's skill is so difficult to control?"

"Yes," Izaval nodded. "When you are a child, all these actions succeed without difficulty. But with growth, It gets harder to control such things. Nobody knows why."

"Hmm," I just nodded and then turned to the bull. It was lying and bleeding. His blood was red like lava. The grass around this blood smoldered slowly. "And what's next?"

"And then, I use several spells that will help me get this animal's horns and heart," Izaval replied with difficulty rising. "I never thought that I would spend so much energy. I would not like to drink a potion ..."

"Then show me your spell, and I'll use it instead of you," I said to him.

"Okay," Izaval said. He reached into his bag and pulled out a rather thick book. He quickly opened it and began to turn the pages. " So where is it ... Yeah. Found."

He handed me a book with an open page on which a spell's scheme was drawn. It should pull out internal organs. The interesting thing about this spell was that it separated all organs from each other, as well as other parts of the body such as skin, blood, lymph, and other fluids. I could not understand how this spell works. To be honest, I didn't even try.

"Where is your book?" he asked me Izaval.

"Oh, yes, now," I told him. After that, I quickly dug into my bag and pulled out my great-great-grandfather's diary. It looked rather old compared to Izaval's book. I quickly redrew the diagram for myself, I got ready to use it.

The training of magicians with new spells occurs in several ways. One of the most popular paths is the one I have used now. Redraw the scheme of the spell from another wizard. After that, the speed of learning the spell depends only on the magician himself. Another path is the path of direct contact. One magician directly conveys knowledge and experience of using this spell. But then there must be complete trust and acceptance between them. As soon as something goes wrong, the learning process turns into torture for both parties. As I knew from my great-great-grandfather's books, this path is used very, very rarely.

Standing up, I prepared to cast the spell from the book. It wasn't easy, but I had already learned more complex spells. It took me twenty minutes to create it. Impermissibly long, but as for the first time, it seems to me normal.

In the next second, the Fire Bull corpse that was the target of this spell shook. It was covered with a grayish fog, which was held in one place for several seconds. After that, he dispersed, revealing to us a view of a wholly disassembled body. I spent a little more than half of my reserve on this spell. Yes, this spell requires a lot. I won't be enough the second time.

"Not bad," Izaval said. "But, you still need to practice to cast this spell faster."

"How much time do you need to create it?" I asked.

"Four minutes," he replied with a touch of pride in his tone. "But I am not the fastest one. One of the archmages can cast this spell in twenty seconds."

"Wow," that's all I answered him. Really fast. In general, the information I have just learned was very important to me, as it shows me the difference between me and a simple archmage. While the archmage may not be easy to achieve, it is for sure possible. Strong wizards are not born. They create themself.

So, if I cast the spell for twenty minutes, and Izaval for four, it means that he is about five times stronger than me. The difference between Izaval himself and the archmage is even more significant than between him and me. Then, the difference between me and the archmage is colossal. And I understand that. To achieve this requires a lot of training and learning.

" Excellent, " Izaval said.

He quickly walked over and took the ingredients he needed. Fire Bull's heart looked big. In addition, if you look closely, you can see a strange fiery glow. It spread on the ground but did no harm. The horns also looked magical. I'm sure any reasonable person would be able to determine this.

Izaval put the ingredients in his bag while casting some kind of spell on them. And I do not know this spell, and I did not meet it in the books that I had on magic.

"Izaval, can you teach me the spell of conservation?" I asked him.

The magician narrowed his eyes a little and looked me attentively.

"Alistair," he turned to me "can you show me your Kirin Tor tattoo?"

"No," I answered him, looking closely into his eyes.

"Don't you have such a sign?" asked Izaval, then pulled up his robe's sleeve. There he had an interesting mark in the form of a stylized eye with three lines in the form of claws that went down. In a second, the sign lit up with soft bluish light, and then went out.

"No," I answered him, nodding my head.

"So, you're not the Kirin Tor mage?" He asked me. "Hmm ..."

"I'm self-taught," I confessed to him. "And I never said that I was a Kirin Tor mage."

"I see," Izaval breathed. "It seems that I thought of something for myself about this."

I just nodded. I have nothing more to say. Something came to Izaval mind, and then nodded his head.

"Now I get it," Izaval said. "You're a self-taught beginner in magic. Good, I'll show you this spell."

He opened his book again and quickly rustled through the pages. Then he showed me a small diagram. It looked simple, I don't think it will take me long to learn it. Having redrawn it in my ancestor's diary, I went to the remains and slowly began to cast the spell I had just received on them.

After that, I put some organs in my bag by rolling them into a small cloth. I also put the bones near them. All this went to the magician's carriage. This carriage was not big or rich-looking. It was just a convenient cart with a cover that can keep the rain away.

When the obstacle in the form of the Fire Bull was overcome, our caravan continued on its way. Yes, this magical animal delayed us, but not enough to cause big problems. It is good that this adventure was without deaths and injuries.

This place was called Silverpine Forest because tall pines with a silvery crown rise above large bumps overgrown with grass. These bumps had to be bypassed, as they were really difficult to pass. At night, a light silvery fog rose here, in which it was very comfortable. He seemed welcoming and warm. A strange sensation.

The geography of this place is very simple and does not have anything interesting. It is located on the west coast of Lordaeron. From the south, it borders on Gilneas, a small peninsular state with developed sea routes. Besides, it is known that many fachan live in this place.

Fachans are very unpleasant creatures with a repulsive appearance. They have a humanoid body shape but are not human. According to legend, they appeared after the Great Rift. The society of these creatures is completely different from humans. They have no cities, only simple hamlet-villages. They don't have advanced technology and magic. They can only be dangerous when attacked in groups.

From the southeast side, Silverpine Forest passes into the foothills of Hillsbrad. To the north lies Tirisfal Forest. It is a gigantic forest massif, which has room for the same gigantic field land. Fertile lands, with relative safety, allow these places to be prosperous and wealthy. In the very east, Silverpine Forest runs into Lordamere Lake.

***

A great event was taking place in a large hall filled with many people. The son of King Adamant Wrynn The Third has finally reached the age of being a prince. This son was named Llane Wrynn The First. Future king, ruler of Stormwind, and other lands.

The courtiers were around and communicated with each other. Alcohol flowed like a river, people were having fun as best they could. Some danced, others socialized or simply gambled. Aristocrats could afford that. The king sat on his throne and watched with hidden pleasure as his people prepared for what was to come. Adamant Wrynn knew that now, in his room, his son was wearing the prince's clothes for the first time.

His wife Varia was sitting on his right hand and whispering about something with her girlfriend and a distant relative. A powerful wizard stood behind the throne, who was engaged in protecting the royal family from magical and other attacks. He was the closest person to them and was initiated into many secrets. Politics continued to rage. Such events greatly delighted the aristocrats, since they had the opportunity to introduce their daughters to the crown prince, and, if possible, make them friends. The nobles' sons were only expected to get the chance to become closer to the heir to the throne. After all, who else, if not they, should help him run the state and take over this heavy burden from him if the prince somewhere fatally stumbles.

The king understood all this and was well aware. He explained this situation to Llane, and was very pleased that he understood his words and took them into account. Adamant saw in him the future ruler: an intelligent and powerful king.

Looking at his wife, he softly squeezed her hand, indicating that the main event was about to begin. From the other end of the hall, servants gave him a signal that everything was ready for the ceremony.

"Gentlemen, Sir's and Ladies," said Adamant, rising from the throne. In the next second, the musicians fell silent. The attendants, too, gave up their entertainment and turned their attention to the king. If someone continued to have fun, then it would be regarded as an insult, and this person would leave the high society, the elite of the kingdom, for many years. "Everyone knows why we are here today. And if some who do not know, then I want to remind you. It is today, my son, that Llane reached the age of Ascension."

The silence was ringing. Nobody even dared to utter a word or exhale once more. No one wanted to miss the words of the king. But he hasn't said anything yet. He waved his hand with several rings to the concierge.

During this time, the royal guard quickly cleared a path from the doors to the royal throne. Several servants brought a small, wooden chair with gold ornamentation and placed it on the left side.

"Heir Llane Wrynn The First, son of King Adamant Wrynn The Third and Queen Varia," the concierge said in a loud voice. The front door slowly opened, and the musicians began to play the royal march. It is played only during significant events.

A thirteen-year-old boy in a dignified suit entered through the door. Royal bearing, as well as a small dagger at the belt. Behind him was his personal bodyguard, chosen by his father. He was a magician who was equally proficient with sword, shield, bow, and magic.

"Llane Wrynn The first killed his first wild boar while hunting at the age of six, and at the age of eight, he began training in the art of swordsmanship. His teachers are confident that he will be a great warrior. His mind is not clouded and sees farther than a common man can see," the concierge spoke loudly. He read Llane's accomplishments as he walked towards his seat, past a row of guards.

Neer the throne, he stopped and dropped to one knee. Adamant could hardly restrain himself from crying. It was an unacceptable emotion in this society.

"Stand up, my son," he said, nodding his head.

"Father," Llane said, getting up. He stood with his head bowed, but at the same time looked with dignity.

"I Adamant Wrynn Third, King of Stormwind and the surrounding lands, proclaim my son Llane Wrynn The First a Prince of Stormwind and the surrounding land," he said, and then added. "May the Ascension come in this family!"

"Ascend!" the aristocrats spoke loudly and then added. "Long live Prince Llane Wrynn the First!"

The warriors drew their weapons and saluted, then hid them back. Very quickly, the royal guards dissipated among the people. The aristocrats rapidly began to form a line. Each became according to his nobility and capabilities. The first was the king.

"My son," he said with love. A servant approached him with a large box. Adamant opened it and showed everyone what was inside. "Wear it with honor."

It was a large hammer that exuded power. Hammer was calling to lower him on the heads of enemies so that crumbling skulls were heard.

"Thank you, Father," Llane said. He put the first gift aside.

At that moment, a strange tension appeared in the air, and then a blue circle glowed. Lines of magical energy rose from him, causing small swirls. The royal magician who was present here was preparing at any time to repel the attack.

The glow faded, and in front of him was a young man in a dark green robe that hid his face. It was trimmed with ornamentation in which elven symbols were guessed. The magician raised his hands and threw off his hood. People around gasped in amazement. Almost everyone knew this face.

"Medivh," the king said quietly. "Is that you?"

"Yes, your majesty," said the magician and slightly nodded his head.

"You came out of a coma ..." said Adamant.

"I managed to master my powers, and I am ready to return to serve the light," the magician said calmly. Something inside the king tensed. His suspition was aroused ... But there was nothing suspicious about the magician. "I would like to give my present to the young prince."

Llane took a step forward. He pretended that he was not at all afraid, but this was not so. He felt fear inside. What efforts it cost him to hide this emotion, no one can convey.

"It's a watch," Medivh said, pulling a small hourglass from his sleeve. He handed the magician so that he checked them. The magician scanned quickly but was unable to find anything dangerous. "The sand in them will flow until a mortal threat appears."

"What threat?" The king asked quietly.

"I don't know," Medivh replied. " Now, I have to go."

With these words, Medivh disappeared in a flash of teleportation.